


Reclamation

by JerseyCaptain



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Balto (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyCaptain/pseuds/JerseyCaptain
Summary: It's late January, 1925.  The place: the coastal town of Nome, Alaska.  In the depths of a gradually-worsening blizzard, a diphtheria infection is approaching epidemic proportions, and the citizens of Nome are desperate.  The hospital's supply of antitoxin is out of date, and they need a new supply.  A call for help is sent over wireless telegraph, and a supply has been found in Anchorage, which is sent up to Nenana.  But they need to send someone out to get it, and it falls to the dogsled team led by the arrogant husky named Steele.  Will this spell disaster for Nome?  Or will greater forces intervene to set Steele on the right path, and save the citizens of the small town in time?  (Alternate universe deviation from Balto movie canon, melded with concepts from the Charles Dickens story "A Christmas Carol"...and of the 1951 movie adaptation of the story).
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	1. Introduction

This story is a reimagining of two tales-that of the adventures seen in the 1995 animated film _Balto_ , and then that of famous nineteenth-century English writer Charles Dickens' classic Christmas social-consciousness story _A Christmas Carol_. However, this is not a word-for-word re-telling of either story, nor is set in a Christmas time frame (since the story in the _Balto_ movie is actually set in late January/early February, in keeping with the true history it is very loosely based on). So, quite obviously, this is an alternative history which deviates from the original canon story of the _Balto_ movie.  
  
My story draws heavily upon the 1951 movie version of Dickens' famous tale. That version is still, to this day, not only considered one of the most faithful screen adaptations of the original Dickens story, but also the most well-acted (especially by Scottish actor Alastair Sim, who played Scrooge). Titled _A Christmas Carol_ in the U.S. version, it was originally released in the U.K. under the title _Scrooge_. And while it appears in black and white in its original form, a colorized version has also been released for those who cannot sit through and watch a black and white film (for whatever reason). It is a must-see for those who love the original story and its characters! And it's currently in-print on DVD and Blu-Ray, and freely available for viewing online (including on YouTube). I have borrowed some from the dialogue in the movie and, in a few cases, my wording will be pretty similar. There was no intention whatsoever to plagiarize that great work of film (or the original story, for that matter), but rather to pay tribute to how well it stands out as the quintessential adaptation of Dickens' great story. See it - you won't be disappointed!  
  
The story will be told in a similar style and language as that of Charles' Dickens' famous tale, but in a more modern vernacular, and without most of the heavy Victorian embellishments. It will also be divided into chapters befitting a literary story, rather than staves as in the case of Dickens' story (staves being musical or poetic structures, a nod by Dickens' to the notion of his story being a carol). Also, please note that there will be differences in the narrative. It is only inspired by, and based upon, Dickens' story...using the characters and story elements from the animated Balto movie...and a few original characters created by me.  
  
This material may not be reprinted or reposted electronically, in whole or part, without written permission of the author. All characters, except where otherwise noted (below), are the property of Universal Studios and Amblimation/Steven Spielberg. Charles Dickens' material, insofar as I know, is open source. Please support the copyrighted material mentioned...both movies are entertaining and even worth owning. I make absolutely no claim of copyright over the material in either movie, or in Charles Dickens' original story.  
  
ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: Charger (and, shortly thereafter, Charger's ghost), Tommy (Steele's nephew), gentleman #1, gentleman #2, musher, The Ghost of The Past, Steele's mother, the team member, The Ghost of the Present, puppy "arrogance", puppy "contempt", The Ghost Of The Future, Rocket, the preacher, Joe the rat, rat #1, rat #2, rat #3.


	2. Prologue

Charger was dead, and there was no doubt about that whatsoever. His musher had seen to it that he received a decent-enough burial...Charger being one of his cherished and valuable former lead dogs, after all. The other dogs of the team had witnessed it, and Steele himself, Charger's co-leader, had even deigned the whole process as interesting enough to him that he would put in a cursory appearance...albeit as aloof as he could possibly attempt to appear to the others. He did, after all, have what he viewed as a "reputation" to uphold.  
  
Steele certainly was a strong, swift leader of his master's team. No one could argue that fact. Alongside his co-leader, who had been noticeably older than he, Steele had led the team to many victories in the races in and around Nome...even if those victories were not always achieved without a certain degree of deception and actual cheating. Which, I can say--without overmuch exaggeration--occurred more often than not. And yet somehow, and rather conveniently for Steele and his cohort, this always seemed to occur out of sight of those who came to watch and wait on the outcome of each race.  
  
The members of the team were, in fact, the only witnesses to Charger's burial. While the human and, most especially, the canine residents of Nome (and the surrounding countryside) thought quite highly of Charger and Steele, and looked upon them as celebrities (of a sort), the dogs-at least-often gave both of them a rather wide berth. Neither Charger nor Steele were particularly known as gentle, affable and self-effacing dogs. Rather the reverse: they were proud, arrogant, self-important, and churlish brutes. Everyone knew it. _They_ knew it. And they did not care. Not one whit. In fact, it may be said that they reveled in the feeling of power and entitlement such displays of deference gave the two of them.  
  
Steele, being the younger of the two, always seemed to catch the eyes of the lady dogs in spite of himself. He was a big, muscular dog, and bore that stature confidently. To a fault, in fact. Charger carried a similar build in his heyday, but the ravages of time had eventually started to tell, and he had begun to see less and less activity on the team. One might think this would concern his co-leader. Oh no...not Steele. To be perfectly honest, Steele couldn't be less troubled by the situation. He was all too eager to make the team his own. And, in spite of the friendship he and Charger shared (they were, in fact, each others' only real friends), Steele seemed as though he couldn't possibly be less moved by Charger's gradual decline, and sudden retirement, all but a year before his passing. And when the time came, if he was moved in the least, Steele didn't let slip so much as a murmur of emotion. Cold as ice...and as hard as his namesake. That, and less, was Steele.  
  
Steele knew Charger was dead? Certainly he did. How could he not? While Steele might have shrugged off the loss of a lesser team member as just "the normal course of events in dog sledding", Charger was still his co-leader and, as I have already mentioned, his only real friend in the world...as if either of them could ever even acknowledge such a bond openly (which, it must be keenly emphasized, they certainly _never_ did).  
  
Oh! but Steele was a strict and unforgiving leader on the run! A pushy, demanding, bullying, hard-nosed ol' brute! How well his name fit his demeanor--stiff and unbending, slick and often sharp. No harsh, biting Alaskan cold caused his steps to falter, no gust of sub-arctic wind checked his pace when he set into it. No matter if the dogs behind him on the gang line might stumble or even balk, he pressed on all the same. Steele did not lead by example...he simply led. Whether or not anyone had difficulty following was of little consequence to him, unless he was in a quarrelsome mood. And that only happened when one of the dogs dared to question him...which they seldom ever did.


	3. Charger's Ghost

Once upon a time, some years hence--in the freezing, bitter cold of the Alaskan midwinter--Steele reclined on a sofa in his master's home, staring indifferently out a nearby window at the kennel yard. The master had sent all the team dogs out to the yard after returning from the day's race, an arduous one in which they were victorious. There were many small dog houses in the yard, which was enclosed by a tall fence. Before each little house, a husky lay curled up with its tail laid over its muzzle for warmth as the bitter wind played persistently at their fur. But what did Steele care? He was inside, where a nice fire was blazing in the hearth. To his way of thinking, this was precisely where he deserved to be...the place of privilege that any leader ought to be able to enjoy. And if Steele enjoyed anything, it could be said that he most definitely enjoyed the perks of his position...especially when the other dogs didn't share in those perks. As far as he was concerned, they hadn't earned them either by station or merit.  
  
Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door of the house, and a cacophony of barking from the yard in response. Steele's master, who was also his musher, went to answer it, greeting two gentlemen in overcoats and bowler hats, and another fellow dressed more ruggedly. After removing their coats and hanging them on pegs in the hall, they adjourned to the drawing room where Steele reclined, now watching them with some interest.  
  
The master approached the couch and began to motion to Steele. "Off the couch, boy. Come on." Letting out a long, loud and frustrated groan, Steele slowly rose, stretched and, stepping down onto the floor, walked over to a corner of the room. There he laid back down, glancing at his master disapprovingly. The men all sat down on various chairs in the room, and began a discussion which Steele listened in on.  
  
"We've come on rather pressing business, Dan," one of the men began. This fellow seemed to Steele to be of high station...he wore a fine suit. From the vest underneath hung a gold watch chain with an intricately-carved ivory fob. He alternately chewed and puffed on a cigar protruding from his mouth and from underneath a full, bushy brown mustache. The smoke was pungent and rather obtrusive, and it annoyed Steele greatly. "There's trouble in town", the man continued. "Dr. Welch has notified us of a diphtheria outbreak. We've got six cases so far. It started with a young boy."  
  
Steele's master stroked his beard for a moment, and then shook his head sympathetically. "Well Dr. Welch's staff may be small, but they ought to be able to handle this now that he's identified it, shouldn't they?"  
  
The gentleman shook his head. "Not likely. It appears his supply of anti-toxin is nearly exhausted, and may well have expired beyond it's efficacy. We are going to need to procure a supply, and quickly."  
  
The master sat back and crossed his legs, laying his arms across the back of the couch. The barking out in the yard had finally subsided, and he sighed. "What are your intentions? Has the mayor consulted with Dr. Welch about this?"  
  
At the master's question, the second gentleman responded. "Yes he has. There has already been one death, and a growing concern that this will escalate to epidemic proportions..."  
  
Steele's ears pricked up at hearing this. But with a quick roll of his eyes, he thought to himself _"Tsk. I don't see what the fuss is about anyway. The population of this town has been steadily falling since the influenza epidemic back in '18. But Nome's still here. If this town loses one or two more, it makes little difference"_. With a smirk, he settled back into listening to the discussion.  
  
The gentleman continued. "We've sent messages out by telegraph, but it would appear our options for securing a resupply of antitoxin are severely limited by the prevailing weather. The newspaper men want us to put our faith in the bush pilots and their airplanes, saying it would be the fastest and safest mode of transport for the medicine. However, the territorial governor and several people of influence disagree with that assessment."  
  
"As do I", the third man broke in. Like the master this fellow was a musher. "I will still hedge my bets with the dogs. The teams have never failed us in the past. You, Dan, are our best man for the job. You have the fastest, most experienced team in the region, and that's why we came to you. The mayor specifically asked us to do so."  
  
Steele's master raised an eyebrow in surprise. " _Did_ he now?"  
  
"Yes", the second gentleman replied. "A supply of the antitoxin has been found at the railroad hospital down in Anchorage, and they're shipping it up to Nenana by rail. But it falls to us to send someone out there to pick it up and carry it back to Nome as quickly as can be managed."  
  
The master paused for a moment to consider the implications of this revelation, and then stood up, crossed his hands behind his back, and strode slowly over to the mantle. Laying one arm across it and, with the other, grabbing a poker to stoke the fire, he asked "So...what's our play then?"  
  
The first gentleman stood up and started to slowly pace about the perimeter of the room still puffing on his cigar and seemingly absorbed in thought, his head lowered in concentration. Steele raised his own head and observed the man closely as he went. He passed around the furniture and then passed by the windows. When he reached Steele's master he stopped, glanced up at him, and replied "We were hoping you might have some suggestions to that effect."  
  
As Steele turned his attention to his master, the man scratched at his beard, seemingly lost in thought. "Hmmmm." There was a momentary pause. Then he raised his right hand and, pointing and wagging his finger indistinctly in the air in front of him, said "You know, we _could_ hold a small race through the town streets...invite the mushers in town to put forth their best dogs. From that, we could determine the fastest among them, and put together a special team for this run."  
  
The men continued talking for some time. Steele, growing weary of it, headed for the side door, which opened out onto the kennel yard. He started whining and scratching at it, which brought the men's conversation to a momentary halt. The master, muttering through his beard, strode to the door and, with a frustrated glance down at Steele, opened it. Steele returned his master's glance with one of feigned gratitude, and strode confidently out towards the kennel yard. The door creaked on its hinges, closing with a dull thud.  
  
Standing on the stoop outside of the door, Steele eased back into a long stretch, and then leaned forward and stretched out his rear legs. He observed that the sun was already down very low on the horizon, and twilight was setting in...even if it was several hours until evening. Descending the narrow steps, he sauntered into the kennel yard, and was approached by a large husky-chow mix.  
  
"So, did youse hear the news, boss? Word is that some sort of sickness has broke out in town, and they ain't figured out the solution there."  
  
Steele just grunted indifferently in reply, and continued past him. The chow mix continued, saying "I heard some of them little kids is sick too. That is a shame, that is. Those kids might die."  
  
"If they're gonna get sick, Nikki," Steele replied with a curt sigh, and without looking back, "they might as well die and make room for those strong enough to fight it."  
  
As Steele walked away, sternly inspecting the dogs curled up in front of their little houses, Nikki's brow furrowed in silent consternation. Steele made rounds of the entire yard. He was, however, momentarily startled as he heard a voice from behind him. He turned to see his young nephew, a yearling dog of proud and pleasant bearing, approaching. "Hello, uncle! How are you?"  
  
Steele rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore the young dog, again only grunting in reply as he continued on towards his master's house. But his young nephew persisted. "What an exciting finish to the race today, huh? The team did great!"  
  
Steele turned towards him, casting him a hard glance, which caused the younger dog to stop in his tracks. "Don't you mean _my team?"_  
  
The young dog stammered, wide-eyed, but continued. "Sure, uncle. Your team." He paused for a moment, thinking to himself, and then offered "What a day! Ol' Balto almost upset the apple cart though, didn't he?" He laughed at the thought of it.  
  
Steele turned again on him...fast this time and, with teeth baring, growled " _DON'T_ mention that worthless half-breed in my presence again, boy, or you'll regret it." Steele stood fast, towering over the young dog, who shrunk back submissively.  
  
The young dog's face became serious. "Don't be morose, uncle. I meant no harm by it."  
  
Steele shook his head in disgust, and turned to resume walking towards the house. "You know nothing. You haven't even earned a place on the team yet. You couldn't possibly understand, so don't bother. Go back to your little hovel."  
  
"You really shouldn't be so hard, uncle", the young dog lamented. "I have no quarrel with you, and neither does he. I don't consider him such a bad fellow anyway. I came over here to welcome you home, and I want or need nothing from you but a simple acknowledgment. Though I do wish we could be friends."  
  
"Good night, Tommy," Steele replied, as dryly as he could, leaving the young dog standing in the snow utterly flummoxed. By the time he returned to the house, the men had gone, and the master had let him back in, as night would soon be setting in.  
  
Some hours later inside the house Steele, who was snoozing by the fire place, was awakened by the sounds of the master preparing to retire for the night. Steele rose to follow him on his rounds just as the master had completed washing up some dishes from his dinner earlier that night. As the master proceeded from room to room on the main level of the house, he turned knobs on a few lit gas lights, blew out a few candles, and attended to the remains of the fire in the fire place, which was all but embers and one faintly-burning log. The master then proceeded up the stairs towards his bedroom. Steele turned aside momentarily for one last lap or two from his water bowl, and then moved towards the staircase. Then he heard it...a voice that was not the master's. It didn't come from the upper level of the house either, but seemed to be all around him.  
  
"Steele". He froze. The voice was at first indistinct, and sounded a bit hollow, as if it were but an echo. But it repeated itself again. "Steele". Nervously, Steele shook his head and continued towards the stairs. By the lower step was a carved wooden umbrella stand, in which were a few canes and odd items. Around its exterior was carved a mountainous scene in a snowy wilderness, and a dog sled team in motion across it. Steele's eyes were almost unconsciously drawn to the team, and specifically to the face of the leader. But gazing upon it, he was startled to see not the general face of the husky which normally was there, but that of his old co-leader, Charger.  
  
Charger's face...lit, it seemed, by some strange, dismal and spectral light which encompassed it. It gazed at Steele much as Charger did in life...with a proud arrogance. And yet it was immediately apparent to Steele that no smirk escaped the corner of Charger's mouth, as he recalled so marked Charger's gaze in the past. Now his mouth was closed and sternly set. His fur was strangely stirred and tossed, as if by some spectral breeze or wind and, though the eyes were wide open, they remained set and utterly motionless. All this, and its strange livid color, deeply disturbed Steele. He momentarily averted his attention, shaking his head in nervous apprehension.  
  
Steele turned back to glance at the phenomenon, but saw that it was once again just the nondescript face of the husky that was always there. It would, of course, be quite inaccurate to say that he was not conscious of a terrible sensation...one which he had not felt since he was a puppy, and was startled by far less disturbing imagery. But he shook his head and, hesitatingly at first, climbed the stairs to the second floor and immediately settled into a corner of the main hallway into his bed...a large wooden box with low sides and several hefty wool blankets stuffed inside. Nervously, he took hold of a large bone he had been working on for some time, which was splintered along its ends and well-gouged by tooth marks.  
  
The house was dark, but for a shaft of moonlight pouring through an upper story window at the end of the hall opposite where he lay. It was quiet. Steele lay awake for some time, deeply disturbed by the experience with the umbrella stand but, at long last, he started to nod off.  
  
Suddenly, from the lower floor of the house, came a loud metallic rattling and clanking, which startled Steele right out of his sleep. He raised his head and peered down the hall towards the stair case, but his view of the stairs and the lower level were obscured by heavy wooden railing. Again came the loud metallic rattling and also a scraping sound, as if a large chain were being dragged across the wooden floor below. Steele was astonished and, at the very same, filled with an ominous dread, his gaze drawn almost irresistibly towards the top of the stairs. Then he wondered, if whatever was making such an impossible racket had not roused his master, nor even the other dogs out in the yard, why should he put any stock in what had to be nothing more than his imagination getting the better of him?  
  
"It's nonsense!" he assured himself out loud, and laid his head back down...yet still staring nervously towards the top of the stairs off in the gloomy darkness.

But once again he raised his head in surprise, eyes wide and mouth drawn in a grimace, as the dreadful sound of heavy chain now seemed to be working its way up the stair case, the links rattling and tumbling upwards, step-by-step, inexorably towards the upper hallway. On it came, the sound of the stairs creaking as if giving under the weight of someone advancing upward, along with the disturbing and percussive tumble of occasional heavier weights thumping down upon the individual steps. Steele felt a growing fear seize hold of him, but he froze, unable or perhaps instinctively unwilling to flee. And really, where could he go? The only escape was his master's bedroom, and that door was shut. Beyond that was a closet door, also closed, and the staircase itself. No, all he could do was wait upon whatever it was ascending the stairs towards him.  
  
Down the hall, and from around the corner where the stairs met the second floor, there appeared a few silvery-gray tendrils...smokey and yet translucent. They snaked their way along the wall and the railing as, all at once, a figure appeared...that of a large dog, pulling hard at a harness he wore, which itself seemed to strain against a heavy weight. Steele recognized this all...the harness pulling against a taut gang line...but one made strangely of thick spectral chain rather than corded rope. As the ghostly figure rounded the corner of the stairway, straining (rather painfully it seemed) against the apparent weight it pulled behind it, Steele could make out a variety of things attached to the gang line: other leather and metal harnesses...devoid of team members; wooden mail crates and boxes of various sizes and design; and, here and there along the line, large canvas "U.S. Mail" bags, stuffed to capacity. The ghost continued to pull mightily as it advanced slowly, amid the spectral noises, up the hallway.  
  
Steele watched with growing fear as the ghost at last gave one long, heaving tug against the line and, with several loud clanks, rattles and thuds, a large ghostly birch wood sled, with no human owner (ghostly or otherwise) bumped around the corner of the stairway and into the hall. The ghost stood there hunched over, seemingly exhausted from the ordeal. It's fur was curiously disturbed, as in the ghostly image from before, as if by a continual and bitterly-cold breeze. And though this was indeed a ghost, the figure seemed to be straining and panting as though attempting to catch its breath. Finally, after a long, torturous moment, it lifted its head.  
  
Steele was shocked to once again see the face of his old friend and co-leader, Charger, before him. This time, however, Charger's face seemed wracked with pain and despair. And even though his brow was deeply furrowed, there yet still was a strange blank gaze from the eyes themselves...a seeming incongruity, given how his body also appeared wracked with pain and exhaustion. The eyes seemed fixed on some far-off and, to Steele, invisible thing. The whole of this apparition disturbed Steele very greatly, and he shivered involuntarily at the presence of it.  
  
Yet still, in spite of clearly recognizing the face of his old friend there before him, his overt fear compelled him to question the ghost in a rather obvious and excitable way. _"Who are you?!"_  
  
The ghost answered without meeting Steele's fearful gaze. "Ask me who I was."  
  
"Ugh. Alright, who were you then?" Steele replied.  
  
The ghost let out a tortured sigh. "In life, I was your co-leader, Charger." Steele blurted out a nervous, stuttering guffaw at that, almost as if the revelation of it was impossible for him to accept in spite of what he was seeing.  
  
He then nodded towards Charger and asked "Can you sit down?"  
  
"I can", the ghost replied vacantly.  
  
"Then do it!", Steele snapped. He kept his gaze fixed on the ghost. He had asked the question and, upon Charger's affirmation, rudely invited him to sit, even though he was fully unaware of whether or not it would even be possible for a ghost to take its ease in such a manner. But he was still plagued with a dreadful fear, and felt perhaps that, by engaging this apparition in some manner of conversation, he might avoid anything even more unpleasant than that which was already unfolding before him. But the ghost sat back on its haunches, the heavy chain of the gang line clattering loudly as it slipped back along the spectral form. Charger's eyes continued to stare blankly past Steele.  
  
"You don't believe in me", the ghost observed.  
  
Steele sniggered at the observation. "I don't!"  
  
"Why do you doubt your senses?" the ghost inquired.  
  
"Because", Steele replied, a bit more confident of himself at this moment, "there are lots of things that can affect them. An upset stomach can make them cheat. You? You could be an undigested bit of salmon or beef; a hunk of cheese; a fragment of stale tallow. There's more of gravy than the grave in you, whatever you are."  
  
Steele was trying to convince himself of this as much as hoping that the apparition would then vanish from the hall, being nothing more than what he had just claimed. He was not much for cracking jokes unless they happened to be at someone's expense. But the truth is that he was doing whatever he could to shake off his dread...the voice of Charger's ghost, and the spectral devices to which it seemed hopelessly chained, disturbed the very marrow in his bones, and greatly unsettled him. There was something quite awful, too, in the ghost's being provided with that strange, infernal atmosphere of its own. Steele could not discern it, but it was clearly real enough for Charger, whose fur continued to be disturbed by it.  
  
"You see this bit of bone?" Steele asked Charger, pawing at a small shard of the beef bone he had, at some point earlier in the day perhaps, gnawed upon determinedly.  
  
"I do," the ghost replied. Steele moved the bony shard around on the floor with his paw, trying to draw Charger's gaze, which was obviously ineffective. "You're not looking at it!"  
  
"But I see it," Charger replied again, "notwithstanding."  
  
"Well," Steele acknowledged abruptly, "all I have to do is swallow this, and be plagued for the rest of my life by all kinds of hallucinations. It's nonsense! _Utter nonsense!"_  
  
At this the ghost stood up and let loose a terrifying cry, his lower jaw dropped down seemingly beyond its physical capacity to do so (in life at least); while the heavy chain around him shook and clanked with an appalling noise, such that Steele suddenly cringed and shrunk back into his bedding, shivering with abject fright. He poked his muzzle out from underneath the blankets, shivering mightily. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"  
  
"Dog of the worldly mind!" The ghost demanded bitterly, "do you believe in me or not?!"  
  
"Alright, I do I do!" Steele groveled miserably. "But why are you here, and why have you come to me?"  
  
"It is required of every dog," the ghost responded, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow dogs, and among men, and travel far and wide. And if that spirit does not do so in life, it is doomed to do so after death. Condemned to wander through the world-- _oh, woe is me!_ \--and witness what it cannot share, _but might have shared in life_ , and turned to happiness!" The ghost dropped down to the floor and buried his face in his spectral forelegs as the chain line rattled forward and hung over his shoulders. He let out another terrifying cry, this of anguish and agony.  
  
Steele observed the ghost's misery with consternation, and then looked back behind the ghost at the bonds which shackled him. He glanced again at the apparition. "How did you end up chained to all of that? What brought this on you?"  
  
The ghost straightened up and again looked out past Steele, resuming his blank-eyed but still pained expression. "I drag the chain I forged in life", he replied forlornly. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I strapped myself to it of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it." For a brief moment, Steele actually felt a tinge of pity for his old friend. "I'm sorry for you".  
  
The ghost turned then and actually met Steele's apprehensive gaze, and, in warning, replied " _ah_ , you don't realize the weight and length of strong chain you bear yourself! It was full as this, and long as this, seven years ago. And you have labored on it since." The ghost bowed its head, and shaking it, lamented sadly "oh, it is a _ponderous_ chain!" Steele absent mindedly glanced down around behind him expecting, perhaps, to find himself harnessed to some great expanse of heavy links of iron chain. But there was none such to be seen. He shook his head and looked up at the ghost. "Charger, my old buddy," he implored the ghost, "give me some hope. Give me hope, Charger!"  
  
"I have none to give," the ghost replied. "Listen to me, Steele! In life my spirit never walked beyond the limits of our kennel yard, or from our various runs across the countless trail miles in the wilderness. And now I am doomed to wander without rest or peace," he said sadly. _"Incessant torment of remorse!"_  
  
Quite to his own surprise, Steele began to sob. Stumbling over his words in a desire to speak comfort to the ghost, he offered "but it was only that you were a good, strong leader on the trail, Charger. After all, that was our business!"  
  
The ghost's gaze became hard, and struck Steele solidly and unexpectedly as he cried " _Business?!_ Mankind was my business! Our fellow dogs were my business! _Their common welfare_ was my business! Mercy, charity, patience, and benevolence were all my business! Being a leader of our team was merely as the settling of a single snowflake on the vast glacier of my business!"  
  
Steele had shrunk again within the folds of the blankets in his bedding, shivering at the ghost's harsh words to him. When he finally peeked out again, he found the ghost staring again blankly out beyond him.  
  
"Hear me", the ghost implored, "my time is nearly gone. I have come to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Steele." Steele breathed a sigh of relief at his words. "Thank you, Charger. You were always a good friend of mine."  
  
"You will be visited by three spirits", the ghost replied blankly. And at those words, Steele's expression dampened.  
  
"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Charger?" The ghost simply stared, offering "it is." "I think I'll pass on that," Steele replied, shaking his head nervously. "Without their visits," the ghost replied, "you cannot hope to avoid the trail I now tread!" The ghost paused for a moment, and then continued. "Expect the first when the clock tolls one."  
  
The ghost straightened up again and began to tug on the great mass of chain and objects behind him, struggling towards the window at the end of the hall. Without turning back to his old partner, he said "Don't expect to see me again, Steele."  
  
As he reached the window, the lower pane suddenly shot upwards, and a cold breeze blew in, tossing the curtains. "But look here," he beckoned, "so that, for your own sake, you may remember what has passed between us!"  
  
Steele rose sheepishly and, stumbling momentarily over his bedding, joined Charger at the window. The ghost nodded down towards the kennel yard, at the dogs sheltering and shivering in their little wooden houses, trying to get through the night on some degree of sleep. All around them were phantoms of dogs trying desperately to comfort the living animals. Most of them were bound in some manner similar to Charger. Some of them attempted to lay close to them in hopes of sharing the warmth they could have offered in life. Others dragged spectral blankets and tried to lay them over the shivering dogs. All to no avail. Steele became aware of a mournful lamentation...a deeply sorrowful and pitiful howling wail from the many spirits down below and, it seemed, all over all at once. Charger, after listening at Steele's side for a moment, faded and vanished, and then reappeared below in the yard with the other spirits. He looked up beckoning towards the window.  
  
This was all Steele could stand. Jumping up and pulling the pane shut with his paws (whereupon the wailing of the spirits was shut out, and it became quiet in the hall again), he then turned and rushed to his bedding and buried himself in it, utterly awash in terror. He remained curled up and shivering in that manner for some time before exhaustion finally came over him, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.


	4. The First Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case it doesn't become obvious to the reader who is familiar with the Balto animated movie franchise, the Ghost of the Past presented in this chapter is Aniu, who appeared in the second movie (and whom fans often debate MIGHT have been the white wolf who appeared to Balto in the first movie, though that particular question was never settled by the producers or writers of either movie).

Steele awoke with a start. It was dark. Even the shaft of light pouring in from the moonlight earlier was now gone and, in spite of squinting, he could make out nothing more than the routine shapes of doors, molding, the odd piece of furniture, a painting or two hanging on the wall, and nothing else. Just then, the grandfather clock on the first floor began to chime the top of the hour...all four quarters. So he listened for the toll of the hour itself.  
  
One, two, three...the chime struck in rhythmic, regular intervals onward, which came as a surprise to Steele, who thought back upon the admonishment by Charger's ghost to "...expect the first when the clock tolls one". Nevertheless, he listened as the chimes continued, and counted right up to eleven. And, at last, came, the last chime.  
  
"Twelve!" Steele mused to himself. It was past midnight, he pondered, when he finally fell asleep earlier. "That clock has to be wrong. Some ice must have gotten into it. I can't have slept through a whole day and into another night!"  
  
He sat there pondering on that for some time, and then laid his head back down and started to nod off. He was unaware of the passage of time at this point, being rather groggy. Before he could take stock, however, there came yet another chime of the bells-just a single chime in fact. In that same instant a brilliant white light filled the hallway. Steele raised his head in stark surprise and abject fear, and then just as suddenly dropped down, throwing his paws over his head in hopes of somehow going unnoticed.  
  
And yet, a strange euphoria started to overtake him. Slowly, cautiously, he peeked out from under his paws, and looked out at the hallway. The brilliant light had faded, and standing before him was the most beautiful white wolf he had ever seen. It's fur was silky, snowy white, and its eyes golden yellow, bordered all around in black. It stood tall and proudly and, befitting a wolf, was quite large. To Steele, it seemed as though this was a female wolf, and he determined, without any conscious thought to the fact, that this is how he would perceive it. He also felt a nagging sense that there was something vaguely familiar about her, though he could not fathom the how or why of it.  
  
"Are you the spirit I was told about?" Steele asked. The spirit looked straight at him with a confident but kindly expression. "I am."  
  
"Who and what are you?" Steele asked in reply, hardly knowing how to address an apparition.  
  
"I am the spirit of the past." Confused, Steele continued to question the spirit. "The past? As in long-ago past?"  
  
"No...", she replied, "...your past." Steele felt his tension easing, and he grew just a little bold. "And what do you want with me?"  
  
"I have come concerning your welfare." With a wry smirk, Steele scoffed at the sentiment. "My welfare, huh?"  
  
"Your reclamation then." The spirit then strode slowly past him, stopping at the window at the near end of the hall. As she did, the window began to open slowly on its own. The spirit turned back to him. "Rise and walk with me."  
  
Steele rose from his bed, but hesitated. "Through the window?" he asked. In response, the spirit took a few steps towards him. "Are you afraid?"  
  
At this, Steele walked over to the window and looked out into the night. A cold breeze blew gently across the open sill. He turned back towards the spirit and shrugged. "Well I'm not a ghost like you. If I climb out of the window, I'll fall!"  
  
The spirit walked over to Steele, nodding askance. "Bear but a touch of my fur, and you will walk as I do."  
  
Slowly, hesitantly, Steele joined the spirit at the window, and quickly nudged her fur with his nose. A spectral breeze overtook them, tossing their fur. Gradually, the walls of the hallway, and the window before them, faded, and Steele found himself standing beside the spirit in an entirely different environment. It was daytime (a bright but somewhat overcast day), and they were outside a large outdoor kennel enclosure, currently unoccupied. The ground around them was blanketed with snow, and the fence coated in a sheen of ice. Here and there along the fence line, icicles hung and sparkled in the diffuse light. He marveled at the surroundings.  
  
The spirit, noticing his expression, inquired "You recall this, no doubt?" Steele, letting out a brief, subtle laugh under his breath, replied "recall it? I was raised here, as a puppy. Trained to be a sled dog. But that was so long ago! How can we possibly be here?"  
  
"These are the shadows of things that have been", the spirit replied.  
  
Steele approached the fence of the kennel yard, and walked along observing the interior. "How lonely it looks...how empty", he observed sadly.  
  
"Not entirely empty, Steele", the spirit retorted. "A solitary pup, yourself, neglected by the master and his other dogs is left there still." Steele hung his head, recalling the lonliness of the scene. "I know."  
  
From inside the kennel yard came the sounds of paws crunching in the snow. An adult husky, a black and white female, strode in and looked across the yard towards a black and white puppy, huddled alone in a corner...he appeared to be less than a year old. With a forlorn expression he stared out across the tundra in silence. The female husky walked towards him, while Steele attempted to conceal himself behind a large bush at the fence line. The spirit joined him at his side.  
  
"We are shadows as well, Steele. They do not know we are here. They cannot see or hear us." With that reassurance, Steele stood tall to watch the goings on.  
  
The female husky sat down next to the saddened puppy, and stroked his head with her paw. "I have good news, son. The master is returning, and I have learned that he has changed his mind about your situation. He is eager to start training you now, and you'll finally have a shot at joining the team!"  
  
The puppy didn't even turn to look up at her, but just kept staring out across the open tundra beyond. "I can't believe that, mother. The master called me useless. Don't you remember? I 'don't have what it takes to be on the team'. That's what the master thinks of me. Maybe he's right. Maybe I haven't got it."  
  
"Nonsense!" the female husky reassured him. "He's setting up a place for you on the line right now. Come and see!"  
  
The young husky looked up at his mother with surprise, and he cocked a slight smile. "Really, mother? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"  
  
The female husky rose and started to walk towards the house, to which the kennel yard was connected. "Come see for yourself, Steele!" At that, the young husky rose up happily to join her as they strode towards the house. The spirit turned towards older Steele and said "Your mother was a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered. But she had a large heart."  
  
"She did", Steele recalled fondly.  
  
"She died shortly thereafter", said the spirit, "and tragically I think."  
  
"Yes", he replied grimly.  
  
The scene dissipated around Steele and the spirit, and they suddenly found themselves in what appeared to be a large barn. Before them several huskies were laughing and celebrating...a string of long sausages being divided up between them. The spirit looked at Steele, whose face was full of joy at the scene unfolding before them. "You know this place?"  
  
Steele turned towards the spirit, his face aglow. "Of course I do! This was during the final days of my apprenticeship on the team. This is a celebration of my graduation to a full team member!" He turned back and observed the scene with great happiness. A large and handsome male husky strode confidently into the center of the group of huskies. Steele's eyes widened. "Look, there's ol' Franklin, the lead dog of our team!"  
  
The big dog held his head high and, addressing the group, said "Boys, today we welcome fully, into our team, a young lad who's been training with us for some time. A brave and strong young lad who has proven himself time and again, earning the master's trust and moving steadily up the ranks of team to the position of swing dog!" He gestured towards a somewhat younger and smaller black and white husky, who stood proudly, with a wide, toothy grin on his face.  
  
"Look--there I am! How young I was in those days!" Steele remarked with astonishment. The spirit nodded silently as the big husky continued.  
  
"We now graduate him to full team member, and give him the appreciation that is well earned for a year's worth of hard work!" The dogs vociferously assented in full agreement with their leader, and the group of them broke into raucous laughter and conversation, mingling together randomly. Steele shook his head in fond reminiscence. "Ah, there never was a kinder leader on any team!" He laughed as he recalled those happier times.  
  
"A small matter, really," the spirit interjected. Steele's ears rose at once, and he turned, wide-eyed. "Small?" he quipped.  
  
The spirit smiled at him, calmly asking "Why? Is it not? He did a bit of begging to convince his master to provide that train of sausages for the team. Nothing more. Is that so much that he deserves your praise?"  
"It's not that at all", Steele insisted, sounding much like his former, younger self. "He had a way of making all our burdens fun. Every mission was an enjoyable experience no matter how hard the journey. The happiness he gave us all it was as if every effort was worth ten times as much as any reward."  
  
But suddenly Steele's smile fell into a slight frown, and his expression became crestfallen. He dropped his head and turned away from the scene playing out before him. The spirit, acknowledging his sudden sullenness, asked "What's the matter?" Steele merely shook his head. "Nothing..."  
  
"Something, I think", the spirit gently insisted.  
  
Steele looked up and glanced off into space. "It's just that I had a thought about my own team...shivering out there in the cold tonight." The spirit nodded approvingly, acknowledging some tiny spark of goodness in Steele's thoughts. In response, Steele shut his eyes tight and shook his head.  
  
"You took to the sledding with some enthusiasm, Steele, did you not?" the spirit inquired, as the scene changed around them. Now they were in a large room with a wood furnace at one end, connected by pipes to a large steam boiler. Around them against (and built into) the walls were various wooden shelves, with several dogs lounging lazily upon them. Before them once again was Steele's younger self, only about a year old, chatting merrily with his fellow team members. A large brown dog, slightly older than the young Steele, approached the group of dogs, who backed away sheepishly...all except for young Steele.  
  
"Charger", the older Steele observed under his breath.  
  
Charger slowly circled the young dog, observing him with mild interest and apparently sizing him up. "You've made quite the impression upon the master, boy", Charger observed rather dryly. "That's not so terribly easy to do, you know." The younger Steele, his head slightly bowed in deference to the older dog, looked up, hesitantly at first, into Charger's eyes. "I think I've done my part", he replied.  
  
Charger laughed coldly at the young dog's boldness. "And a bit of a bite too. I like that..." The young Steele's ears perked up, and he raised his head proudly. Charger, catching this out of the corner of his eye, sneered at him and shot back "...don't let it go to your head, boy. Not yet anyway." Charger came to a stop and stood face-to-face with young Steele, staring menacingly down at him. Then he cracked a wry and somewhat sinister smile at the young dog. "Still, I might have use for you, now that I'm the leader" he noted quite vainly. "Come with me...let's talk". Charger started to walk off towards the exit, and then stopped and turned back to see the younger dog not following him. He shot young Steele a stern glance, which compelled him to follow Charger out the door.  
  
The scene faded around them, and they suddenly found themselves emerging in a new scene...one which drew an immediate emotional reaction from Steele. "No, spirit! Not here, please!" But he received no response. She remained silent. Before him were several dogs from the team, loose on the tundra beyond the kennel yard of the master's home. His younger self was there too (though a little older than before), laying down beside his mother, who was also laying on her side in the snow. She was mortally wounded...and the snow around her was stained with her blood. She was in obvious pain, and her breathing was labored. The younger Steele was agonizing over her, at once nervous and angry. "Why, mother?! Why did you do that?! _WHY?!"_ The young dog began to sob, and he buried his head in her fur. Standing rigidly next to the spirit, Steele watched, his face contorted with misery.  
  
She struggled faintly to respond, opening her eyes slightly. "It was my job to...protect the pups in the yard". You all were away on your run..." She wheezed, and winced sharply in response to the intense pain she was feeling.  
  
"They were wolves, mom! You should have known better than to try and hold them off by yourself anyway!" young Steele whined bitterly. She looked weakly over at him, lifting her head with great effort. "No...choice son. I'm...I'm sorry." She dropped her head and fell unconscious.  
  
Another dog from the team approached the younger Steele sympathetically. "I don't think she's going to make it, buddy. The wolves did a thorough job. I'm really very sorry." Suddenly, from across the tundra, a few gunshots rang out. The other dogs turned to look off in the direction of the gunfire, and the footprints in the snow. The dog turned back to Steele. "You see? The master's taking care of it. They won't come back."  
  
The younger Steele stood up slowly, his body awash in furious tension. He stared out across the tundra for a moment, baring his teeth and growling quietly, his eyes fixated furiously into the distance. Then, quickly turning his head away, he let out an angry yell and took off running in the opposite direction, disappearing over a low rise.  
  
Steele started to turn away, but the spirit intervened. "Wait...listen."  
  
The dog who had tried to comfort younger Steele lay down beside his dying mother to keep her company. She came briefly to consciousness without opening her eyes, and said, with her dying breath, "St...Steele...don't hold it against them...please. They w...were only trying to survive." And in that moment, she died.  
  
The master came walking back over the tundra, with Charger next to him. As they approached Steele's mother, Charger stopped short, observed the tragic scene before him, and a slight but sinister smile played at his muzzle. "Exactly according to plan", he muttered to himself.  
  
The spirit turned to look at older Steele. "You heard them both, did you not?" Without speaking, Steele nodded sadly, again turning away. "Take me away from here, spirit, I can't bear to look at anymore of this".  
"But I told you", the spirit calmly protested, "these are shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me..." Steele turned and, with a guttural growl, glanced angrily at the spirit. _"Take me away!"_  
  
"Very well", she replied, as the scene faded around them. "But we are not yet done. We do but turn another page."  
  
Suddenly, Steele found himself standing once again in the large room with the furnace and boiler. It was some years later, and he saw his younger self again, now grown to full adulthood...strong and proud. His younger self was examining a birch wood dogsled, as well as its gang line and harnesses, while a couple of other team dogs stood quietly nearby, not daring to interrupt. One of them was Star, then just a yearling himself. He was tense and apprehensive, and watched Steele warily. Older Steele and the spirit stood silently and observed the scene.  
  
Another dog entered from the outside door. It was Nikki. "Younger and more lithe back then, 'ey Nikki?" Steele thought wryly to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Steele caught a disapproving glance from the spirit.  
  
Nikki walked quietly up to Star, keeping an occasional eye on the younger Steele as he paced up and down the line scrutinizing every detail. He nudged Star on the shoulder. "Ey", I come from da master's house. Charger ain't doin' good. Da master thinks he's gonna die tonight. You better let Steele know, so he can say his goodbyes if he wants to."  
  
Star's eyes opened wide, and he shrunk a bit in fear. "M-m-m-me?" He shrunk down even further, shaking his head in denial. Nikki frowned at him. "Yeh, you. I got to get back over there. Now hurry up, kid!"  
Star hunched up, gulped fearfully, and walked up to the younger Steele. "H-hey, boss?"  
  
Younger Steele stopped and, without turning back to look at Star, replied dryly "What is it?"  
  
Star hesitated for a moment, shaking, and said "It's about Charger. Nikki said he's dying. I was told to let you know so you could go see him." He hunched down again, awaiting some sharp reproach. Younger Steele just huffed. Turning back to Star with a stern glance, he noted "We have a run to complete tomorrow morning. I'm not finished going over everything yet. I'll go when I'm finished." He then turned back to his scrutinizing of the equipment.  
  
Without replying, Star skulked off and returned to Nikki. With a hesitant and nervous giggle, he said "He...says he'll come when he's finished going over the equipment." Nikki shook his head disapprovingly. "Uh huh. Well hopefully he'll hold out til then." He turned and exited the way he came.  
  
The scene suddenly changed to the hallway of the master's house, looking much the same as it had the night that Charger's ghost appeared to Steele. By now, Steele was so distracted by the scenes he'd witnessed while in the company of the spirit that he was unaware of whether any time had passed and, if so, how much had. He turned and looked into the parlor. There, on some bedding, lay Charger, seemingly already deceased. The master was sitting in a chair nearby, before the fireplace, lost in thought.  
  
Steele's younger self came walking slowly into the hallway, passing his older self and the spirit. He gently and quietly walked up to where Charger lay, and observed him for a moment, looking for any signs of life. As he leaned down to listen for any breathing, Charger's eyes opened, and momentarily startled the younger Steele.  
  
"Oh! Charger," the younger Steele said with mild surprise, "Well, has the master seen to you properly? Your final affairs and all?" Charger nodded slowly without a word. The younger Steele looked back at him as kindly as his own nature could muster at this point in his life. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Again, silently and slowly, Charger nodded.  
  
"Hm?" The younger Steele asked. "What is it then?"  
  
Charger strained weakly to speak to the younger Steele, a dire urgency in his voice and his eyes. "Whi...while there's still time..." Younger Steele leaned closer, trying to catch what he was saying.  
  
"Hm?" younger Steele inquired. "Time? Time for _what?"_  
  
Charger continued to struggle to get the words out. "We were...wrong", he said very weakly.  
  
The younger Steele, his muzzle now furrowed in frustration, asked "What?" Charger swallowed, and repeated "We were wrong!"  
  
The younger Steele straightened up a bit, and looked into Charger's eyes again. "Wrong? Is that all? Well, we can't be right all the time, 'ey?" He let out a short laugh. "Nobody's perfect. We did no worse than the next dog. A heck of a lot better in fact, when you think about it. Don't blame yourself, Charger!"  
  
Charger shook his head slowly in rebuttal. "No. We...were wrong!" He struggled to lift his paw slightly, placing it on the back of younger Steele's head to draw him close. "S...save yourself!"  
  
The younger Steele pulled back in confusion. "What? Save myself? Save myself from what?" Gritting his teeth, he came almost muzzle-to-muzzle with Charger, commanding "Speak up!" But as he did, Charger's paw fell from his head, and down by the dog's side. He was dead. The younger Steele looked blankly at him for a moment or two.  
  
Just then, Nikki walked into the parlor, and stopped short just outside the hall. "Is he dead?" The younger Steele turned towards Nikki, not expecting him. "Yes."  
  
Nikki approached slowly and, after a careful and sympathetic glance down towards Charger, he walked over to the chair by the fireplace and, with a whimper, nudged the master's hand. The master pulled his hand back, startled out of his daze, and rose to go to Charger's side. The younger Steele simply turned and walked out into the hallway and out of sight.  
  
Steele himself stood transfixed, and at a total loss for words or actions. The spirit, standing beside him, turned to him and noted "One shadow more."  
  
Steele shook his head in desperation. "No!" he insisted. "No more. I can't take anymore of this!" But the scene shifted around them in spite of Steele's protest. The spirit would not be deterred. Now they found themselves in the back yard of the master's house, the team gathered around a fresh grave, and the master kneeling down to place a marker. Each of the team members seemed concerned for the master, who was deeply saddened by the loss. The younger Steele, on the other hand, simply yawned and, after the master stood back up to give one last look at the grave, and then turn and walk off, so did the younger Steele. On the younger Steele's face was a confident, selfish smile. He stood tall and walked proudly, knowing that he now was solely in charge of the team. It was, at last, his.  
  
"You and Charger worked side-by-side for nine years", the spirit observed. "He was the only friend you ever had. But what did you feel when you stood at his deathbed, or when your master finally laid him to rest? When you took his position, his power and his status on the team? Did you feel even the slightest pity for him? Look at your face, Steele-the face of a grasping, clawing, covetous wretch..."  
  
Steele suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion come over him, and a near overpowering sleepiness. He also was now aware of being back in his own bed, in the darkened hallway. But before he could stand to investigate, he found himself falling into a deep sleep.


	5. The Second Spirit

Steele awoke, arousing himself unceremoniously from his slumber with a rather prodigious snore...just as the bell of the grandfather clock struck the half hour. He sat up to collect his thoughts, thinking at first that his encounters with the first spirit, and with Charger's ghost, were perhaps nothing more than a bad dream. But then an unexpected thought troubled him...as to from where and how the next spirit might appear to him, and if indeed he were still dreaming, or was wide awake. And this sent a chill through him.  
  
He waited, apprehensively...his eyes fixed upon the darkened hall. But no spirit came to him. Five minutes. Ten. Then the quarter of the hour. Still nothing. Steele began to wonder whether or not the whole incident had indeed been nothing more than a bad dream after all. And so he sat, unable to resume his slumber for some time...seized, as he was, by a terrible sense of dread as to how much longer he would have to wait for the rising of the sun through the window before him. But that was some hours off yet.  
  
A quarter til. And still, utter silence and darkness. But at last, as the hour struck once...then twice, from the open space leading down to the first floor, through the banister and up the stairs, appeared a shaft of golden light, which spread through the hall towards him.  
  
Steele was very much afraid, you understand. And yet the light was strangely inviting...it held a supernatural warmth and solace that started to wash over Steele and draw him from his bed. He no longer felt fearful, though he was confused as to the new feelings coming over him, and was hesitant to go on. But he walked over to the banister, and looked down into the first floor hall. There, the light seemed to originate from the drawing room. It was then that Steele heard a deep, rich, rolling laughter...which also emanated from the parlor. It startled him, and he stepped back in surprise, bumping into the wall behind him.  
  
Steele began to turn to go back to his bed, but a voice beckoned to him. He froze and turned to listen. "Come here. Come here, Steele! I await you!"  
  
Without even fully realizing it, Steele caught himself nodding in assent, and turning towards the stairs at the voice's command. He tried to resist, but found it remarkably difficult. Down he went, until he was standing around the corner of the large entryway to the drawing room...hesitant to peer around the corner.  
  
"Come in, don't be afraid!" the voice demanded. Steele rounded the corner to a scene beyond his wildest imaginings. At first, he had to rub his eyes with his paws, as the golden light had a brilliance which filled the drawing room. As the light dissipated and his eyes focused, Steele saw that a great fire was burning and crackling in the fireplace, and all around the room were stocked foodstuffs and drink of all kinds. Stacks of salmon and trout, great shimmering glass jars filled to their brims with sweet golden honey, baskets full of lucious berries of crimson and indigo, cornucopias overflowing with bright bulbous apples, pears and great cascades of nuts of innumerable kinds, as well as fat orange pumpkins and big wooden casks of cider. A feast fit for a king! Around the mantle of the hearth, and indeed the entire room, were strung great strands of evergreen garland and sprays, mixed here and there with holly and mistletoe.  
  
And there, sitting upon a great mound of all these tempting victuals, was the biggest brown bear that Steele had ever thought possible. A great, hulking beast. But this bear was behaving quite unlike any which Steele had ever seen or heard of. He seemed a right jolly fellow...as his gaze met Steele's it seemed jovial and even kindly. He had a broad smile coursing the circumference of his muzzle, and his great belly shook as he laughed: a laugh as deep as that Steele had first heard at the top of the stairs. This was a bit too much for Steele who, with a whimper and a shake of his head, turned to retreat.  
  
The spirit, however, urged him otherwise. "Don't go away, Steele. Come in!" The spirit laughed again. "Come in and know me better", the spirit urged. "I am the spirit of the present. Look upon me! You've not seen the like of me before, have you?"  
  
Steele, resigning himself to the inevitability of his current situation, grumbled "Never. And I really wish I could have avoided it..." He shook his head again in disbelief. The spirit's face turned serious then. "So! Is your heart still unmoved by all that to which you have thus far been witness?"  
  
Steele clenched his teeth, and tempered his response, not wishing to anger a supernatural thing which he feared might very well do him great harm. Perturbed by the spirit's admonishment, he snapped "I am too far gone! It's too late for me! Go and redeem someone else, and leave me to my fate!"  
  
The spirit observed him sternly, but without malice. "Mortal, we spirits do not engage in such tasks ill-advisedly, or without good cause. And there are few causes more urgent than this. You have chosen to renounce all manner of good will and kindness in your life. And so you will come with me and seek such things in the hearts of dogs and men who have not!"  
  
Steele observed now that the spirit's face once again turned pleasant and kindly. It reached out its great arm towards him. "Come, touch my paw". Steele stepped forward and did as the spirit bade him. Instantly, the drawing room faded from view, and for a moment they seemed to float in space and time with no apparent fixed point of reference. The spirit said to Steele "No doubt you will recall at least some of what you are about to see, though it pains me to think of any pride you may draw from the recollections.  
  
In no time they found themselves in the workshop of Nome's carpenter, Mr. Johansson. It was daytime and, before them, at the worktable the carpenter was putting the final finishing touches on a very small birch wood sled. Nearby, watching intently, were three other humans and one husky. Steele recognized them immediately...the humans were a small girl named Rosy (who was giddy and fidgeting while holding her hands over her eyes) and her parents. The husky was their dog, Jenna...whom Steele had had his eyes on over the years. He wanted her to be his girl, and only his. And seeing her now, so obviously happy and content, only strengthened his covetous feelings towards her.  
  
Mr. Johansson picked up the sled from his worktable, and turned towards the family. Rosy's father began chuckling. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."  
  
Rosy drew her hands away from her eyes and opened them as Mr. Johansson laid the sled on the floor a few feet in front of her. _"Oh!"_ she exclaimed, then breaking into a fit of giggling and hopping. She rushed over to it and began examining it, proclaiming as she went through each part of it (as Jenna barked happily and joined her at her side) "I love these rudders! I love this brush bow!" She turned quickly towards her parents and shouted _"I love this sled!"_ Steele smiled in spite of himself. He would never admit it to others, but he did have a spot of warm feeling for the little girl. But whether that was honest and altruistic, or because of his intended designs on Jenna, was anybody's guess.  
  
Rosy's parents laughed as their daughter thrilled herself to this new experience. Grabbing a leather harness made for the sled, which Mr. Johansson attached to the brush bow, Rosy said "Jenna, Jenna! You're lead dog!" She had a bit of trouble with the harness, cautioning "Okay, just a minute." Jenna calmly and gently assisted her in getting it around her body. Forgetting to climb on the sled, in her excitement, Rosy held onto the straps and shouted "Come on, mush!"  
  
As she did, Rosy's mother pulled something from underneath her coat, and leaned over to Rosy, saying "then you'll need this." It was a brand new musher's cap! Rosy's mother placed it on her head. It was just a bit large, but Rosy adjusted it and gasped with joy. "A real musher's hat! We're a real sled team now!" She jumped onto the runners of the little sled, grabbed hold of the handles and, as Jenna barked and started off towards the door, she shouted "Mush!" In a moment, they were out the door.  
  
Rosy's parents laughed as they watched their daughter disappear out of the door. "Mr. Johansson", exclaimed Rosy's father, "the sled is beautiful!" He pulled out his wallet from his inner coat pocket as Rosy's mother, offering her appreciation, said "We're very grateful!"  
  
Rosy came running back in shouting "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" as she went to both of her parents and Mr. Johansson in turn, and then disappeared as quickly back out of the door. They all laughed again as Rosy' father observed "Rosy's grateful too, huh?" Mr. Johansson chuckled, saying "Yeah, so I gather!" Rosy popped in again, excitedly offering one more show of gratitude, and then called to the three adults. "Watch this!" Her mother replied "Coming, sweetheart".  
  
As Rosy's parents turned to go out the door, the scene started to fade around Steele and the spirit. What materialized around them both next was a daytime wintry scene on Front Street in town. The sidewalks were roped off from the street itself, and crowds were gathered behind those ropes, cheering and chattering. Steele could see, out of the corner of his eye, someone he had come to intensely dislike...the wolfdog named Balto. Balto had slipped through a sea of legs and was looking out across the street, where he caught a glimpse of Jenna and Rosy. Steele could see that Balto was quite taken with her, and anger welled up within him. "He hasn't got a chance", Steele mused to himself. Behind him, he heard the spirit clear his throat as if to get him to focus on the scene playing out before them, or perhaps simply to reproach him. Smirking, and laughing briefly under his breath, he shrugged and refocused his attention.  
  
Down the street, a team was rapidly approaching. It was his own team. "This must be the race we just finished yesterday", Steele said. In reply, the spirit acknowledged "It is. And it was a _clean_ win wasn't it Steele?" the spirit prodded knowingly. With a tinge of conceit, Steele simply rolled his eyes, grunting in response. Behind him, he caught the sound of Rosy's voice cheering him on, just as a gust of wind blew past him. Her cheers changed abruptly to a cry of "my hat!" Steele looked back, and saw a small musher's hat, caught by the wind and tossing about in the air, come to land in the middle of the street, right in the path of his approaching team. His smile dropped to a frown, but he said or did nothing.  
  
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Balto rush out into the street just as his team passed by, to the sudden surprise (and several comments) from the crowd of people. Balto raced to catch up to the team, rapidly closing on it. As he came even with Steele's doppelganger, that one turned in surprise as he noticed Balto racing alongside of him. Sneering at Balto, he grunted "Hey! Out of my way, lobo!" Balto ignored the jibe, and continued racing neck-and-neck with Steele. Steele pushed hard to outpace him, but Balto's attention was now fixated on the hat laying directly in their path. With a sudden and dark inspiration, he turned and snapped at Balto's legs. But the wolfdog leaped up into the air and spun at the same time, coming to land just in front of the team, and in just enough time to grab the hat and scramble out of the way. He came to a sliding halt in front of the crowd, just short of the finish line, the hat safely in his mouth. The team continued on past the finish line and was lost from Steele's sight by the rush of the crowd as they went to get a better look at it.  
  
Steele saw Balto cautiously trot over to Rosy and Jenna, and he turned the hat back over to a grateful Rosy. "Balto!" she protested, "what a crazy thing to do!" Balto lowered his head just a bit, but had a friendly smile on his face. Rosy continued, her tone changing to one of playful teasing, "Just to impress a pretty girl." Balto and Jenna smiled at each other, looking into each others' eyes. And again, the scene faded.  
As a new scene came into existence around Steele and the spirit, he saw it was now dark outside. They were standing before the Maynard-Columbus hospital in town, and in front of them was Jenna. She was standing outside alone, before one of the big windows. Inside, Steele could see the doctor and a few nurses, attending to several people of various ages, who each appeared to be in great discomfort, coughing and holding their foreheads. Among them was little Rosy.  
  
Jenna barked a few times, and caught Rosy's attention. The little girl came rushing out happily through the front door of the hospital, while Jenna pranced towards her, barking happily in response. Rosy greeted her with as much excitement as she could muster, saying "Hi girl!" They danced around in the snow together for a couple of seconds, and then Rosy came to a sudden standstill and started coughing. Jenna stopped and, with a look of concern on her face, nudged Rosy's arm in sympathy. Rosy's father came to the open door of the hospital, and called out to his daughter. "Rosy! Rosy, come on. You're gonna catch your death out here!" "Okay, dad", she replied. "Come on", he said, "the doctor's waiting." They walked up the front steps, Rosy still coughing, and back through the door, closing it behind them.  
  
The scene quickly shifted to a private examination room. There, while Rosy's parents stood in the background, deeply concerned for their daughter, the doctor examined her. Steele turned towards the window, and saw Jenna watching from outside. She was momentarily distracted by something, and he wondered what it was. But he found himself able to hear what was going on outside as well as inside. Jenna seemed very sad, on the verge of tears.  
  
Steele then heard a voice he recognized. It was Balto's. "Jenna?" He then saw Balto pop up at the window alongside Jenna, who explained "Rosy's in there." Balto cast a concerned glance through the window. "In the hospital? Why?" Steele was aware, simultaneously, of the events transpiring on both sides of the window, though he did not understand how this was possible. As he saw the doctor remove a thermometer from Rosy's mouth, he heard Jenna say "She feels warm. She has a terrible cough." Rosy wheezed and put her hand around her throat, in obvious pain.  
  
Outside, Jenna turned to Balto, her voice nearly faltering as she asked "Balto, what's wrong with her?" Balto's voice became very soft and sympathetic. "Huh. I'm not sure, but I know how we can find out." He started to get down off of the pile of logs they were both standing on. "Come on." And with that, they both set off through the snow, as the scene again began to change.  
  
When the scene refocused, Steele found himself standing with the spirit inside of a rear room of the hospital. In it was a large metal furnace, similar to the one with which Steele was more familiar. Balto and Jenna walked in, and Steele watched as Balto ducked through a small hatch in the wall, followed closely by Jenna. Inside, the surroundings became very tight and claustrophobic. It was dank and dark, with cobwebs hanging here and there. The floor was nothing more than dirt. The two of them were, it seemed, navigating through a long crawlspace beneath the hospital floor. Balto cautioned Jenna to "Stay close." Watching a mouse skitter by and screech in response to their presence, Jenna assured him "No problem there."  
  
They walked a few more feet, and Jenna remarked upon the gloominess of the crawlspace. "Not that I'm scared or anything", she assured him, just narrowly avoiding walking straight into a spider's web. "Gloomy?" Balto retorted wryly, brushing the webs aside with his tail. "You kidding? It's the most beautiful spot in the world." They walked on, ducking under a large beam draped with a ratty old cloth, which Balto held up with his tail as Jenna passed under it. "Dogs travel for years just to be right here", he mused.  
  
"Here?" Jenna replied. "I can't see why." Balto leaned over towards her, half whispering "That's 'cause you're looking at the bowl half empty." He strode up to a pile of refuse and dirt, lit from above by a light shining through a floor grating. Atop the pile were various pieces of broken glass bottles, of various colors. "See this?" he asked her, pushing the glass directly underneath the grating and into the light. "It's the polar ice caps."  
  
Jenna stepped forward, looking befuddled. "Balto", she remarked, "those are broken bottles. And they're not half empty. They're all empty." In response, Balto merely looked up at the grating above him, into the shaft of light pouring down through it. "The sun", he whispered. Jenna backed up, becoming more confused. "Ah, Balto..." But Balto turned, his body between the light and the bottles. "Aaaand, to the north?" He then stepped out of the way of the light, and it hit the bottles, sending forth a cascade of colors towards the wall across the room, to which Jenna to gasp in complete awe. "The northern lights", she murmured.

On the wall behind them, the cascade of light danced and shimmered very much in the manner of the actual aurora borealis. "Balto, you're right", she exclaimed. "It's beautiful!"  
  
Balto looked at Jenna with an adoring expression. He was completely in love with her...a situation with bothered Steele as he watched it happening. "Yeah...", Balto observed, "...beautiful." Jenna turned and her gaze met Balto's, and for that moment, they were both enraptured.  
  
Their romantic moment, however, was suddenly broken by the sound of human footsteps coming from the hospital floor above them. The light coming through the grate was suddenly blocked by something above it. Balto and Jenna walked carefully up the grate to investigate. A kindly voice was heard in the room above. "Good night, Rosy." In response came young Rosy's voice. "I'm so cold". Jenna and Balto saw the doctor through the grating, and he was standing next to a bed. "Well I have another blanket for you right here. You stay warm and get some rest." The doctor turned and walked across the grating, followed by another adult—Rosy's father.  
  
Balto and Jenna noticed they were walking across the floor, and into another room with another open grating. The two dogs quickly moved over to stand underneath the other grating and listen. They heard the concern in the voice of Rosy's father. "Doctor, how is she?"  
  
"Exhausted from coughing", the doctor replied. "And her fever's getting worse." Jenna gasped in fear of the news. "Looks like diphtheria", the doctor concluded. "She's the eighteenth case this week." The doctor sighed as he reached for a bottle of medicine. "And I'm out of antitoxin."  
  
Steele was surprised to find himself feeling badly for Rosy, and for Jenna. He turned to the spirit and inquired grimly "Spirit, tell me-will Rosy live?" The spirit looked out into space without meeting Steele's gaze, and replied "I see a vacant seat in the poor fireplace corner, and a little musher's cap laid upon it, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, the child--and many others--will die."  
  
"Can't she be spared?" Steele asked, almost begging. The spirit turned towards him with a solemn expression on its face. "Why? 'If this town loses one or two more, it makes little difference', does it not?"

At that, Steele recalled the words he spoke much earlier that night, which the spirit now echoed, and he was overcome with a wave of remorse.  
  
Steele then looked up and noticed that Jenna too broke down in utter sorrow, and that she started to slip away. "Jenna?" Balto asked. "Jenna! I'm sorry I...Jenna I...". Balto followed Jenna, and the scene began once again to fade from Steele's view.  
  
Steele found himself standing alone, with the spirit, out on Front Street in town. He turned towards the spirit, and was shocked to find it appeared to have aged considerably...something which he had taken no notice of during their brief time together. Had it happened just now? Or was it happening all along? Steele simply did not know. He shook his head vigorously to clear his thoughts, asking the spirit "Where are you taking me next?"  
  
The spirit looked at him grimly, replying "My time with you is nearly done, Steele. Will you profit from what I have shown you of the good in the hearts of most men and dogs?"  
  
Steele grew frustrated again. "I...I don't know. How can you expect me to promise to be something I'm not?" It was then that he noticed, skulking about behind the feet of the great bear, what seemed to be two puppies. But he could not see their faces very clearly.  
  
"If all that you have thus far seen is simply too hard to digest, then learn this lesson!" The great bear stepped aside, and revealed the two creatures behind him. They were indeed two puppies, one girl and one boy. Steele at first thought this was a chance encounter, that they had stumbled upon a couple of stray waifs lost in the cold night. These were not the cute, fluffy and irresistible little creatures often taken so eagerly and lovingly into the arms of a human child, or a protective musher. They seemed disheveled, gaunt and feral in appearance, and they shrunk before Steele as they were revealed to him, continuing to skulk unpleasantly at the feet of the spirit.  
  
"Who are they?" Steele inquired. "Don't they belong to any human in particular?"  
  
The spirit ignored the two puppies at his feet, but continued to scrutinize Steele. "They belong to no one...and everyone. They cling to me for protection from their fetters...the very nature of man and beast which defines what they are. This boy is arrogance and this girl is contempt. Beware them both, but most of all beware this girl, for on her brow is written much of your doom, lest it be erased. Shun it! Renounce it!"  
  
Steele looked at them fearfully, imploring the spirit "Can't we find some resource for them? Some refuge?" The spirit began to fade from Steele's view, as did the puppies...but the spirit's final words boomed and echoed in Steele's ears so loudly that he crouched down and buried his head in his forelegs. "They might as well die and make room for those strong enough to fight it!" Steele remembered the words he spoke so disdainfully earlier in the night, and he was now finding himself fearfully embarrassed.  
  
The words echoed a few more times and then faded out, leaving him standing alone in the darkened street as a strange, silvery fog began to creep out of the alleyways and ever so slowly towards him. It eventually concealed most of the ground under Steele's paws; at the same moment, he began to feel a strange and unnatural cold settling around him, and penetrating his fur. "That's odd...", he mumbled to himself, "...fog at this time of year? "And so cold!" He then felt suddenly aware of a bone-chilling dread coming over him, just as a loud bell chimed the hour...a spectral sound originating from no visible clock. One...two...three bells. As Steele gazed out into the darkness, he noticed a strange figure slowly approaching. His body was shivering. But whether that was from the strange cold or the events transpiring before him, he could not tell.


	6. The Third Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you may note that the events described here seem to jump around a bit as the spirit takes Steele from point to point into his future. This is not all that different from Dickens' narrative, and the reader should not presume that the events described here, or in Dickens' original story when the spirits take Scrooge from place to place, are meant to be laid out in any sort of chronological order.

Steele watched intently, and very ill at ease, as the figure stalked its way towards him from out of the creeping fog. As it came fully into view, it proved a terrifying sight indeed. It was a gaunt figure, dark almost as the night itself. It let out a low, rolling growl as it approached, which was broken only by an occasional long hiss as it appeared to breathe in. Steele took a good long look, and grew ever more afraid of what he saw. It appeared, in fact, to be a wolverine...but none like Steele had ever seen or heard of before. Its unruly fur was mostly black, broken only by occasional and irregular patches of dull brown. The creature looked horribly emaciated...almost sickly. It's skin and fur seemed so tightly drawn over its gaunt frame that one could easily discern its ribs and spine and other bony structures prodding at the carcass from within. Its face was frightful to look at...the eyes, sunken and almost skeletal, were but dark depressions, with the faintest points of cold, green light...bare pinpricks, showing from within. The creature drew back the skin around its mouth in a most savage manner, bearing sharp but yellowed fangs. From one corner of the mouth fell a viscous line of saliva. The entirety of this strange apparition disturbed and profoundly frightened Steele.  
  
The creature paced slowly around him, growling and hissing as it slunk along, arching its bony spine and lowering its head menacingly as it stared right into Steele's eyes. Now completely unnerved, the usually confident sled dog found himself fighting to speak. "You...are the spirit of the future?", he stammered. "You're here to show me things that will happen in the future?" The creature said nothing, but responded with a sharper, louder growl. Steele shivered in fear at this menacing presence. He was deathly afraid of it, but tried to muster what courage he could. "Look, I hate to be blunt, but I like you the least of all the spirits I've been visited by tonight."  
  
Again, the dark creature said nothing, but turned slowly and began walking down the darkened street. Steele cautiously followed, fearful of getting too close to this particular apparition. The street seemed almost to swallow them up as they walked, and very quickly Steele found himself back in the same room, where he had earlier witnessed Charger first taking notice of his younger self as "useful"...the large room with the furnace, boiler and shelves. Excepting now they saw several huskies in there...about five or six. Steele recognized a few of them as old team leaders...even Rocket, the one whom he had beaten in the recent race. Next to him was a young dog whom Steele recognized. "That's Kirby", he remarked without looking directly at the spirit. "I've heard he's been moving along quickly through the ranks of Simpson's team. Don't tell me he managed to make lead dog!" But the spirit gave no response other than another low, menacing growl and a hiss. Steele noticed the dogs were all engaged in some light banter, and it was apparent that the spirit wanted him to listen in.  
  
"No", said Kirby. "I don't know much about it anyway. I only heard that he's dead."  
  
"When did he die?" another dog asked. "Last night, I think", Kirby replied.  
  
"Does anyone know what was the matter with him?", Rocket asked. "I thought the old cheater would never die."  
  
"Who knows?" asked yet another dog, yawning indifferently.  
  
"Does anyone know what they did with the remains?", Rocket continued. "I mean, given how the old place fell into disrepair and neglect after the incident with the antitoxin a few years ago. And he never really full recovered from that tumble into the gorge, did he?" Steele's eyes widened, and his ears shot forward at the mention of this. He risked a glance back at the spirit, who only stared at him with a cold, terrifying countenance.  
  
"I hear that there's going to be a burial in the old yard", Kirby noted. "Some of the mushers are planning to go, and I suppose I might go over as well."  
  
"Really?" another dog asked. "Weeeell, I suppose I might go...if it's not going to be too long and drawn out. I hate funerals." The dogs all laughed in response.  
  
"Well I certainly am the most disinterested of you all", Rocket scoffed. "But I imagine my master will be there, which will necessitate my going. I cannot say that I was ever particularly a friend of his, though I cannot say either that we were enemies. So I suppose that's something, if perhaps very little after all." The dogs all laughed again, and they gradually began to make for the door, chatting together as they went.  
  
As the dogs exited, the scene began to fade, and Steele suddenly found himself standing inside the parlor of a home he did not, from the present perspective, recognize. The strange and dark spirit stood next to him in silence. There, before the both of them, sat young Rosy's mother, in their love seat by the hearth. She had a blanket over her legs, and she was holding onto a little doll, which must have been one of Rosy's favorite toys. Jenna lay at her feet, staring sadly into the fireplace. A fire was burning there, and the dancing light reflected in her eyes. Standing just a few steps away from them was a man whom Steele recognized as the town preacher; he stood before Rosy's mother and was reading aloud some verse, the last words of which Steele managed to catch...  
  
"And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them." The preacher stopped reading. He looked up from the pages, and wiped away a tear. He walked up to where Rosy's mother was sitting, and offered a sympathetic hand. She reached out and gently grasped it. The preacher smiled at her, saying "try to reassure yourself if you can, Martha. The Lord will be there for you, and remember that He welcomed her into His glory."  
  
Rosy's mother started to cry, and placed a handkerchief up to her nose. The preacher gently squeezed her hand. "Don't worry", he comforted her. "It's about time your husband was coming home." She looked up at a small grandmother clock on the mantle, which chimed half-past five o'clock. Sniffing and trying to compose herself, she murmured "Past time, actually." She touched the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "Though I think he's taken to walking a bit slower in the evenings anymore."  
  
The preacher sat beside her and placed both of his hands over hers in a gesture of comfort and sympathy. They were both quiet for some time, when at last Rosy's mother said, in a steady and cheerful voice, that only faltered once as she fought back her sorrow: "I have known him to walk with-I have known him to walk with Rosy on his shoulders, very lively indeed."  
"And so have I", replied the preacher with a gentle laugh. "Often".  
  
Just then Rosy's father entered through the front door, and both the preacher and Rosy's mother stood to greet him, she joining him at the door and embracing him tightly. The preacher stepped over and shook his hand, and offered to take his coat, which was quickly hung up on the rack at the door, along with his hat. Jenna slowly joined them and, with a weak wag of her tail, greeted her master.  
"Darling", Rosy's mother asked her husband, "what kept you? I was starting to worry." They each retired to the chairs before the hearth, and sat down to a waiting tea kettle. Jenna lay back down, this time at the feet of Rosy's father...and once again stared off into space.  
  
"I went to pay my respects again, my dear. I wish you could have been there with me. It would have done you good to see how green the place is even now, at this time of year." He held her hands in his, but cast his glance down sadly. "I promised her I'd walk there every Sunday to visit with her...and every visit with her these last few years has been so important to me. My sweet little girl..." His voice trailed off, and he choked on the last few words, fighting back tears. He embraced his wife again, and they held each other comfortingly for several minutes.  
  
Rosy's father noticed then that her favorite doll was sitting on the love seat between them. He picked it up and looked it over for a minute, and then looked down at Jenna, who seemed oblivious to everything. "You know, the strangest thing happened as I was walking back home this evening. A young dog approached me and nudged my hand, as though it seemed concerned with me for some reason. And you know, I think it was one of Dan's dogs...Tommy if I remember his name right..."  
  
Steele's eyes opened wide at this news, and then he frowned. "Hmph", he huffed.  
  
"...It seemed strange at first, but then it struck me as an act of kindness. As if he was expressing his sympathy for me...as if he understood why I was so withdrawn as I walked along the street. What a pleasant young dog. I'm glad that young fellow Simpson was able to take him in. He deserves a good home."  
  
Steele was flummoxed, at first he could only think of how silly he felt his young nephew was. But the question of why someone else would need to take his nephew in and give him a home bothered Steele. The scene, however, began to change around him and the spirit. And now he found himself standing before an old, abandoned house, in a terrible state of disrepair. There were no lights in the windows (many of which had broken panes), and no signs of any life coming from within. On one side of the old house was a large fence, partially broken and dilapidated in places.  
  
And then it hit Steele with a shock. This was the master's house and the kennel yard! He turned to the spirit, which stared back at him with its cold, menacing eyes. "Spirit, what does this mean? What's happened here? Where is the master? Where is my team?" But the spirit merely stood in abject silence, beyond its unpleasant low growl, punctuated as it occasionally drew breath with a low hiss. Not being able to bear the sight for too long without a terrible dread, Steele turned away again and walked towards the house and up the stairs. Finding the door hanging limp on its hinges, he was able to pass right through the open gap and into the main hall.  
  
It was cold and dark inside, and very quiet. Some snow had managed to drift into the hallway. Here and there, various pictures hung off-center, or had fallen to the floor, their glass panes shattered, with bits of glass scattered about the floor. Some of the furniture had fallen and broken, and the cloth cushions on the seats had tears in them, or were frayed. Steele walked through the hallway and back into the kitchen where, to his surprise, he noticed a large rat lounging lazily on a large pile of rags. Gathered up in great mounds around the kitchen floor were all manner of items...old nails and various other unidentifiable metal bits and pieces, many bent and rusting; tattered cloth and bits of clothing, and piles of old chicken, beef and pork bones of various sizes, all gnawed clear of the last bits of meat. All of this intermingled in a very untidy and unpleasant pile of filth.  
  
It was upon hearing the voice of another, from behind some of the piles of junk and filth that he realized that three more rats approached their larger fellow. " 'Ello, Joe! 'Ere's a chance, if we haven't all three met here at the same time without meaning it!" This rat cackled as she pushed a large empty metal drinking dish across the floor (or the part of it which was actually clear of refuse). The second rat dragged a large leather strap behind him, with a big brass buckle and studs upon it. And the third managed to drag his own bundle, three cloth toys, latched together with bits of old string, in order that he might transport them all at once.  
  
"You couldn't have met in a better place" Joe, the large rat, replied. "Come into my parlor then! You three ain't no strangers, and we're all quite suitable to our calling, 'ey? We're all well-matched!" As he said this, the first rat shoved the drinking dish up to Joe's feet and, with a big sigh, wiped her brow and plopped down on some nearby rags. The second dragged up his load, the buckled strap, and sat down next to the first, and the third did likewise, gesturing with his paw to the first rat: "Go on then, ladies first."  
  
The first rat nodded in appreciation, saying "Oh no, that's quite alright." But the second rat agreed with his comrade. "No no, we insist. You first."  
  
The first rat smiled, her two crooked and yellowed front teeth sticking out prodigiously from under her upper lip. "That's very kind of you I'm sure. Much obliged." She leaned over the bowl, wiped around inside of it with her paw, and gave a good puff to blow out a layer of dust inside, which rose right into her face, causing her to cough profusely. She winced, and waved her paw in front of her nose a few times. Clearing her throat, she continued, asking the second rat "What odds then? What odds, Leroy? Everyone has a right to take care of themselves. He always did!"  
  
"Quite true", the second rat replied. "None more so. So what are you waiting for? Don't be shy, woman; after all, who's the wiser? We ain't gonna pilfer from each other I suppose!"  
  
"No indeed!" replied the first rat with another cackling laugh. "If he wanted to keep this stuff after he was dead, the wicked old thing, why wasn't he nicer when he was alive? If he had been, he'd have had someone to look after him when he was struck with death, instead of laying there gasping out his last, all by himself." The third rat nodded in agreement. "Truer words were never spoken. There was a judgment on him."  
  
"I wish it were a heavier one", the first rat replied. "And it should have been, the fink. What with how he used to chase us all away every time we came to have a looking for a few measly scraps. I'd have laid my paws on more of his if I could have...plenty enough still left what with a year gone by and all." She reached out and tapped the bowl, which resounded with a dull metallic thud. "Well go on, Joe, tell me its worth. Go on, speak plain. I'm not afraid to be the first. We knew pretty well we was helping ourselves before we met here. After all, it's no sin, is it? Take a look, Joe!"  
  
The third rat then stepped up and tugged his bundle forward. "No no-actually I'll go first, just to show we got trust in one another." He laid the bundle of cloth dog toys at Joe's feet and stepped back. The first rat looked back at him with a wry smile and, nodding, said "It's very polite of you I do grant, I'm sure."  
  
Joe examined closely the old toys, going over the stitching and the material bit-by-bit, mumbling to himself as he did. The third rat described each in turn: "One cloth cat, one cloth bone, one denim fish." Joe grimaced and laid the bundle aside. "Hmmm. One stick, and I wouldn't give you a shred more, not if my tail was caught in a trap." The third rat frowned and shook his head as Joe pulled out a strip of old, leathery jerky from a muslin drawstring bag and handed it over. The third rat took it curtly, and stepped back again behind the other two.  
  
"Now mine, Joe", the first rat replied. Joe pushed himself up off the bundle upon which he was laying, and scrutinized the drinking bowl closely. After a moment or two of mumbling, he noted "Yeees, might make a good tub for my bath. And I'm certainly eager to have one!" he observed, and laughed while pulling two full strips of jerky from the muslin bag, which he summarily handed over to the first rat. She smiled and nodded, crossing her arms before her and settling back in smug satisfaction. As she began gnawing on one of the strips, the second rat pulled up the leather strap.  
  
"Here you go, Joe...have a look at mine!" He laid the large strap before the big rat, across the bowl. It was thick brown leather, easily two inches in width, with large brass studs upon it and a large brass buckle (each somewhat dulled, having lost their luster over time). Joe took it in his paws and marveled at it. It was heavy, and it took some effort for him to examine it in detail. Gasping suddenly, he asked "Is this what I think it is?" The second rat nodded, grinning. "You had better believe it!"  
  
Joe dropped the heavy strap, which upset the bowl and send it tumbling across the floor away from them with several dull clangs, until it came to rest by a pile of old clothes. "You...you mean you took it right off him, what with him laying there dead and all?" The second rat chuckled and shrugged. "And? What of it? He certainly had no further need of it. It's the best one he had, and a fine one too! Besides, they'd have wasted it if weren't for me!"  
  
Joe was confused. "What do you mean, wasted it?"  
  
"Well burying him with it of course", the second rat retorted. "Besides, a normal collar is just as becoming for a burial, and was certainly good enough for him anyway. He couldn't have looked any uglier than he did in this one anyhow."  
  
"It's poetic justice", remarked the third rat. "He frightened everyone away from him when he was alive, only to profit us now that he's dead!" The others laughed blithely in response as Joe reached into his bag to pull out a paw full of jerky strips, handing them over to the second rat.  
  
Steele watched the four rats in disgust, detesting their presence in the old house, and the awful mess they had made of the kitchen. He wondered if the whole house had been laid waste in such a manner. Turning back towards the grim spirit, he shuddered, observing "Spirit, I get it. The miserable case of this dog, whoever he was, could be like my own. I understand...my life is headed in this direction! Can I do anything about it?"  
  
The dark spirit growled at him and prowled forward. Steele shrunk back in fear, as the scene faded, and then a new scene opened before them. As before, it was dark and quiet, but for a blustery wind gusting occasionally, which produced a low, whining howl. Steele saw that he was out in the back yard of the old house and there, a short distance from the back porch, was a row of wooden grave markers, some fallen and others weathered to varying degrees. He recognized Charger's old marker, since fallen and surrounded by clumps of dead weeds. He then caught the muffled sounds of some conversation on the extreme end of the row. There he saw his young nephew, now looking just a bit older and more care-worn. He was sitting before a relatively fresh marker. And before him, laying down and looking older and somewhat bedraggled, was Star, his old team mate. Star! The first of his team mates to appear in these dark futuristic visions! He wandered over to try and hear what was being said.  
  
Steele listened as Star was apparently relating a story to Tommy. Star sounded tired, and grim. His face was sullen, and his body slightly emaciated. Clearly he hadn't been getting on very well. And it disturbed Steele to see his former team mate, who was always so bright and chipper, if perhaps rather silly, now so glum, and so weak. "...We had slid down an icy embankment, one which we didn't see until too late. The team struggled to keep its footing, and to protect the sled. But it started to slide sideways, and its weight set us off-balance. Soon we were sliding sideways down the embankment as it narrowed...hard, icy shelves, trees and snow-covered boulders on either side. The sled struck several of them on the way down and then, as we hit the bottom, the sled was violently overturned, and the master was thrown out into the snow. Each of us, of course, were tangled in the gang line and the harnesses, and half-buried in that same snow, some on top of others."  
  
Tommy's face showed great concern, and he gently laid his paw on Star's back, shaking his head. "I didn't know. I...I never heard any of this before." Star looked up at him sadly, "I've never told this story to anyone before. Not even to Jenna." Steele gasped. He was starting to realize that this may very well have to do with him. But he kept silent and continued listening to the conversation.  
  
"We didn't know it at that moment", Star continued, "but the master had hit his head on one of the boulders, or perhaps a tree, on the way down the embankment. As we each shook off the snow and got to our feet, Lenny walked over with me to check on the master. But he was not moving. He told Steele that it looked as though the master was hurt bad, and I asked Steele what we were going to do. But he said nothing...only sat there looking like he was in shock."  
  
Steele couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was never at a loss for knowing what to do. He turned back towards the spirit momentarily. "What is all this? I don't remember any of it!" But the spirit merely bared his teeth and stared back at Steele. Realizing he wasn't going to get an answer, Steele turned back again to listen.  
  
"Just then, we saw Balto come sliding down the embankment. It was totally unexpected. He managed to slide safely to the bottom, and immediately asked if anyone was hurt. Steele, who never liked him very much, really wasn't very happy to see him. He told Balto that everyone was fine. But that wasn't right at all. I explained to Balto that the master had hit his head, and that he hadn't gotten back up. I nudged the master's arm, and it fell back into the snow. Balto offered to lead us back, but Steele angrily told him that we didn't need his help."  
  
Tommy shook his head again. "My uncle really hated Balto", he said bitterly. "I never understood why. Balto was always a very nice guy. And pretty smart too." Steele raised an eyebrow at this, but again said nothing.  
  
"We certainly saw plenty of that back then", Star noted ruefully. "Well anyway, Nikki asked Balto how he would lead us home, and he showed us how he had marked out a trail by scratching a little bark off of certain trees along the way. We thought that was pretty creative, and that it might be the answer. But again, Steele wouldn't accept Balto's help. He tried to force him to leave. But when Balto offered to at least take the medicine back, Steele attacked him. Balto didn't want to fight, but Steele kept at it. When he finally reached up to pull the medicine from the sled, Steele grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him hard, tossing him against a large boulder near the edge of a steep drop, which we had somehow avoided sliding off of earlier." Steele hung his head, now worried about where this was going.  
  
"Balto was unconscious for a minute, but we were all shocked to see him come to and slowly rise to his feet. Steele, on the other hand, became livid. He lunged again at Balto, who quickly stepped aside. Steele had managed to grab hold of an orange scarf around Balto's neck. It looked as if it were Jenna's. While we watched helplessly, the two of them tussled at the precipice. Steele was trying to pull him to the edge and throw him off. But as he tugged, the knot in the scarf became untied, and loosed from Balto's neck. Steele started to fall backwards and, loosing his footing, fell into the crevice below with a sharp scream."  
  
Steele gasped again, and started to back away. "I can't listen to anymore of this!" He started to step away and, as he turned, he found the spirit standing right behind him, teeth again bared, and staring him down with a horrible growl. Terrified and shaking, Steele turned back around and was compelled to hear the rest of it.  
  
Tommy took a couple of steps away, and stared out into the night. Quietly, he asked "What did you all decide to do then?"  
  
"Well, we each presumed there was simply no way Steele could have survived that fall, so we gently lifted the master back onto the sled. After that we each returned to our harnesses. Balto came walking up, and I proudly offered the lead harness to him. He hesitated for a moment, but meekly accepted it. And with that, we were off."  
  
Star rose slowly, with some effort, to his feet, and walked over to join Tommy by his side. "We went for some hours, following Balto's trail markers, but after a short time, he started to hesitate, stopping occasionally and looking confused. We finally saw that there were additional marks on the trees all around us. And it now became apparent that he didn't know which ones to follow. Nobody could figure out what had happened, but we urged him on. At this point, only he could guide us back to Nome. This continued, frustratingly, for hours, just as the storm started to pick up. We had some close calls along the way. In time, however, we ended up in a deep and narrow ravine, with a large mountain behind us. This was slow going. At one point I accidentally sneezed, and it set off an avalanche on the mountain behind us. Naturally we all panicked, and Balto called on the team to move as fast as we could."  
  
Tommy glanced over at Star. "Was that what did it?" Steele, listening reluctantly, was now wondering if this was perhaps why Star was the only one of his team members he saw in this vision. He didn't have to wait long for an answer. "Not directly, no", Star lamented. "Balto spotted the entrance to a cave on the wall of the ravine, and made a beeline for it. We hit the cave just as the wall of snow rolled past the cave entrance, covering it completely. We had no choice, at that point, but to go on through the cave and seek out another exit. We went on for quite some time. Finally we spotted an exit hole, and started to work our way towards it. It was at the far end of a large cavern, with several icy stalagmites and stalactites. As we entered the cavern, cautiously at first, everything seemed fine. We had to step down a bit onto the floor of the cavern. But when the sled crossed that little ledge, the runners hit the ice with a loud woody thud. Then we heard a loud crack above us, and the tinkling of ice. Balto urged us to make for the cavern mouth right away, just as the stalactites began to come loose from the roof of the cavern. They began falling all around us, each smashing on the icy floor with a deafening crash. Again the sled began to turn and slide away from us, and we were at risk of losing the medicine. When the box started to crack open, and one bottle fell out, smashing on the cavern floor, Balto rebounded off of a stalagmite and jumped against the box, securing it and sending the sled back in the other direction. But now we were racing to reach the cavern mouth, and daylight, as a sudden rain of huge stalactites fell above us, along with chucks of ice and rock..." Star's voice trailed off, and he stopped, bowing his head.  
  
Tommy turned again to him. "And?"  
  
Star looked up at him sadly. "We didn't make it. The mouth of the cave was covered by the ice and rock, and so was the team. I must have been out for hours. But when I came to, I couldn't see or hear anyone. I scrambled weakly out of the rubble, battered and sore. I tried digging around me, for as long as I could, but my legs were just too weakened and sore. I called out to Balto...to Nikki. Even to Kaltag. But I got no response. Just the echo of my own voice in the cavern, and the ominous tinkling and cracking of more ice. I decided that it'd be best not to try that again. So I sat there, desperately afraid, and wondering what I should do next. It was then that I noticed a small shaft of light coming through a small hole high up on the mound of rock and ice blocking the cave mouth. I climbed, with some effort, ignoring the pain, and managed to push enough of the rubble aside to pull myself out. When I was outside, after my eyes adjusted to the daylight, I headed off, hoping to get back to town and find help. The sun was getting low on the horizon, so I had to get back as quick as I could."  
  
Tommy turned and walked back to the grave they had been so close to when the scene first appeared to Steele. He looked down at it, and then shook his head. "Were you able to get help?"  
  
Star shook his head slowly. "I wandered for some time out there. It may have been a week, perhaps a little more. I lost track of time. I had just about given up, half-starved, weak and utterly without hope, and fell flat onto my belly in the snow. It was then that I heard the approach of another team of dogs. A team that had been sent out to look for us. They found me and brought me back to Nome, and nursed me back to health. But I couldn't get anyone to allow me back out to lead them to the rest of our team. I'm not sure I could have found my way back to the cavern if they had let me, I was so weak and delirious from what had occurred in the cavern."  
  
Star turned and rejoined Tommy at the grave. "Well, after that, as you already know, things didn't go very well here in town. The sickness spread, and many people died. Many others left on the first ships south, once the ice broke up. Nome became the ghost town it essentially is now. No word was ever heard again from the team or my master." Star looked up at the old house. "And that is all that's left." He started to walk off into the night, back towards town, and Tommy got up to follow him.  
  
Steele was utterly flummoxed. Had he caused all of this? And what had become of town? Was anyone even left, or just the few that he had seen earlier? He turned back to the spirit in desperation. It now stalked right past him, and stepped up behind the grave marker before which Star and Tommy had been talking. Pleading fearfully, Steele said "Spirit, before I come over there to look at that marker, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of things that will be, or only might be?" Steele, at this point, was pretty sure he knew what was about to be revealed to him. It sent shivers down his spine, and he cringed from it. But the spirit was unmoved. It simply waited for Steele to draw near, staring threateningly at him. Shaking from fear, Steele cried out "The past was what it was, and the present is what it is. But the future hasn't happened yet! If I can change it from what I have seen, first tell me before I look at that marker!" The spirit growled in response.  
  
Steele approached the marker, deathly afraid, and at last looked upon it. There, scratched rather unceremoniously into the wood (very much unlike the greater care given to the previous markers), was his own name! Steele cried out in anguish at the sight, and dropped his head right down into the snow, placing his paws over his head and sobbing. _" NOOO! No no no!"  
_  
The spirit stepped before him and stared down at him remorselessly. Steele peered up into its sinister sunken eyes, and those cold green points of of light. "Spirit!" he cried. "I'm not the dog I was! I will not have my future end up like this! Why show me all of this if there's no hope for me?!"  
  
And then, suddenly, the growling stopped. The spirit took a step or two back, the fierceness in its face softening just a bit. Steele took notice, and began to rise to his feet. "I _will_ change", he implored. "I will make this right! I have learned from what I have been shown tonight, and I will make my life better than it has been!" Steele found an unanticipated boldness rising in him, and he stepped towards the spirit, which slowly retreated in response. But he managed to catch up and he fell down before it, grasping at the fur on its legs. The spirit attempted to pull itself free, but Steele held on tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he pleaded.  
  
"Tell me that I can scratch out the writing on that marker! _Please tell me!"_ The spirit was strong, and repulsed his grasp. As Steele reached out to grab hold again, he found himself once again in his own bedding, grasping at the blankets around him.


	7. Transformation

Steele breathed a great sigh of relief. There was bright sunlight pouring into the window down the hall, and it bathed the hallway in a golden morning hue. Out in the kennel yard, Steele could hear that the dogs were up and around, and making quite a fuss.  
  
At the moment, however, such things did not concern him. He was in his own bed! In his master's house! And it wasn't run down and disheveled-everything was where it was supposed to be, all neat, clean and orderly! They were here, and HE was here! He grinned at the thought of getting right to work this morning, setting things to right. "The shadows of the things I saw can be changed," he giddily remarked. "And they will be!"  
  
He stood up and stretched, letting out a prodigious yawn, and his ears shot up as he heard the sounds of paws coming up the stairs. Looking down the hall, he saw Star peering sheepishly around the banister towards him. Star--and he was young again! Not seemingly old and ragged as he had appeared in the vision earlier. "S...Steele?" he inquired, rounding the corner and stepping out into the hallway cautiously.  
  
"Star! Come over here!" Steele proclaimed happily. Star, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in confusion, walked over. Clearing his throat, Steele stood tall and asked "What day is this, Star?"  
  
"What day? It's January twenty fourth, Steele", Star replied.  
  
Steele grinned again. "January twenty fourth...amazing-they actually did do it all in one night! But then, they could, couldn't they?" Pointing down the hall, he added "Look, that's where Charger's ghost made his appearance, just like you did, around the banister!" Steele strode quickly over to the top banister, and glanced down through the open space beyond to the first floor hall and the drawing room. Referring to it, he added "And that's where the spirit of the present appeared!"  
  
Star looked askance at his leader. "Steele, are you alright?" Steele turned around quickly and met Star's gaze. "What?" Star recoiled, expecting to be hit (or worse). But he was surprised when Steele replied "I don't know... No. No I'm not!" Shaking his head, Steele laughed at the absurdity of the situation.  
  
Star started backing away, wondering what had gotten into his leader. "The master is preparing the team to go into town for the race", he noted.  
Steele cleared his throat and straightened up. "Race? What race?" he asked.  
  
"The race to determine the fastest dogs for the team?" Star replied questioningly. " So we can go out and bring the medicine back?" Steele nodded. "Oooooh yeeees! Yes! Right!" He straightened up and walked over to the window, looked down on the kennel yard, and beckoned to Star. "You get right down there and tell them that I'm on my way! Hurry up, Star!" But Star needed little prodding to rush back downstairs, and get away from Steele and this strange new behavior he was exhibiting. Steele spent a minute making himself look presentable, and strode confidently down the stairs and out into the yard. Being harnessed by the master into his usual lead position, Steele took off, at the master's command, leading his team towards town.  
  
A short time later, the race was commenced to determine the fastest dog. Steele watched from the sidelines, next to his master as members of his own team, as well as several hopefuls from other teams (and, of course, Balto), bound through the streets of Nome on a predetermined course. Their goal, to be included on this special team that would go off to retrieve the antitoxin and return with it. With crowds cheering from the sidelines, behind the same ropes used in the earlier race which Steele's team had won, the dogs rounded the last turn and approached the finish line. To Steele's surprise there was Balto, fast in the lead! He crossed the finish line, panting heavily as the other dogs came running up behind and each eventually came to a stop, and Steele smiled to himself. But not his usual cruel, arrogant smile. This was something much different. He chuckled to himself, and then, drawing himself up to his full height, and puffing out his chest, he started to walk towards the finish line, and Balto. He did his best, in spite of how excited he was, to put on an air more evident of his usual self.  
  
Sticking his nose up in the air, and striding right past Balto, he commanded "Okay Nikki, Kaltag, Star-move it! We're strapping up." Balto turned and faced him. "Hey now, just a second here, Steele", he insisted. "I was the fastest dog."  
  
Steele turned back and grinned at him, trying to show complete arrogance. "You were the fastest _what?"_ He shot back, as Balto glanced sternly at him. "Do you honestly believe any musher would ever put you on his team?" Steele waited for some response, and saw Jenna approaching from the crowd. Chuckling under his breath, he again turned to Balto and, softening his expression and his voice, said "Well mine will. If you're up to the challenge, that is." Steele saw Jenna stop in her tracks, astounded. Balto too now had a look of surprise on his face. Further back behind them, near the finish line, Star, Kaltag and Nikki each stood with their mouths hanging wide open, utterly dumbfounded.  
  
Steele was quite amused by their reactions, and let out a rich, rolling laugh. He tussled Balto's head with his paw and said "Come on, wolfdog. Let's go get that medicine." He started walking back towards the finish line, and stopped when he noticed that Balto was not following him. "You coming?"  
  
Balto took a few steps, his head tilted in bewilderment. "Steele, I..." he stammered, "...I don't know what to say. Why?"  
  
Steele turned back towards Balto with a sympathetic expression, saying "I...had a little time to consider things, and I guess I finally realized that I've been acting like a fool. I want to try and make it right. If you'll let me." Balto glanced over Steele's shoulder at Jenna, who was now smiling, and nodded at him encouragingly. "Alright then. Let's do it!"  
  
The master walked up with another man following close behind. "Good dog, Steele!" Steele pranced around, barking and panting happily. "Good dog!" the master said again. "Now let's take a look at our winner here", the master said, reaching down to greet Balto. "Let's take a look at our winner." He let Balto sniff his hand, and then pat him on the head, which made the young wolfdog very happy. "We might have a potential new leader here, as fast as he is!" He looked over Balto's body structure, then stood up and waved his arm, calling to his team members to follow him. As they began to walk off together to rejoin the other team members, Steele caught a glimpse of his young nephew Tommy, standing among the humans on the sidelines. Tommy smiled and nodded approvingly, and Steele nodded back.  
  
That night, the team prepared to leave on its run to Nenana. As the rest of the team was put into position, two harnesses remained open...the lead and one directly behind it. Steele stood near Star, and the master was preparing to harness him as Balto approached from the direction of the hospital. Through one of its windows, Steele could see Rosy and her parents watching the team being hitched. The master began to place the lead harness over Steele's head, when the dog backed away.  
  
"Steele?", the master grunted. "What are you doing, boy? Come on now, we've got no time to lose. Step into the harness." But Steele wouldn't obey. He looked past the master, and barked as Balto stepped around and next to him. The master scratched his head for a moment but, being an experienced musher who understood his dogs well, he got the message. "Very well then, if that's how you want it." The master placed the lead harness around Balto's head and body, and then harnessed up Steele behind him. Balto lowered his head and turned back to Steele. "I'm not sure I want to take the lead from you, Steele. I just wanted to be a part of the team..."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Balto", Steele assured him. "Just follow your instincts. If you need any help, I'll be right back here. Now, lead this team to Nenana, wolfdog. Show me what you're made of."  
The master called the team to action, and off they went into the night. And while they faced many harrowing adventures there and back, they did bring the antitoxin back to Nome. They had saved Rosy, and countless other citizens, and their names went down in history.  
  
Steele lived up to his pledge to the spirits, and to Balto. He became as good a dog as any ever was, and remained Balto's friend to the end of his days. And to Rosy, who did not die, he became a friend too. He had redeemed himself in the eyes of the town dogs, even if they occasionally laughed at the change in him, and teased him a time or two for it. He no longer cared about such things, because his experiences with the spirits had taught him much about life and death. And it was always said of him that he knew how to live well, if any dog alive possessed the knowledge.


End file.
